


The Worst F*cking Thing

by Superellysan



Category: Rockman X | Mega Man X, Rockman | Mega Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Exhibits, Gen, Museums, Regret, Torture, all that fun stuff, long fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-03-05 20:02:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13395228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superellysan/pseuds/Superellysan
Summary: She waited a second, before playfully saying, “Here, I’ll give you a hint. He was X’s best friend.”He shut her talking out then. He didn’t want to hear anymore.An X5 alternate scenario





	1. Prologue

He saw the doors open as the first group of the day poured in. He watched as they swarmed around him, awe and wonder painted on their faces, and noticed that there were more animal type reploids today than usual.

“Now, now,” a voice called out over the crowd, and one of the regular tour guides, Betty, pushed her way to the front of his display. “Don’t crowd the man! Give him some room.”  
The crowd shifted back marginally, and Betty put her hands on her hips and huffed. “Well, I suppose that’ll have to do.”

She straightened her posture and puffed a prim "ahem" into her fist, before launching into the same old spiel as usual.

“As you can all see, this is X. He is the father of all reploids, and the first of our kind. He was discovered in an underground lab on April 13th, 21XX, almost 20 years ago. From studying his build and make-up, the first ever reploids were brought into existence. However, only a few years ago, he met with tragedy and was killed. That is why we have this exhibit; to honor him who brought forth a new race, and whose life was cut all too short.”

A small, paw-like hand shot up in the crowd.  
“Yes?”  
A rabbit reploid of diminutive height stepped forward, their ears sparking with electricity, and meekly asked, “Is that why he looks so sad?”  
Betty shook her head and, kneeling down, sadly replied, “No. The reason for his sorrow is that he was betrayed.”  
“Betrayed?” the reploid asked, cocking their head to the side in confusion. They must have been newly built. “By who?”  
Betty placed her hands upon the young reploid’s shoulders and whispered, “By _humans._ ”

Yup. The same spiel as always. The same false tale. He wasn’t certain why he was bothering to listen to it today.

“Humans?” the reploid muttered back, obviously spooked.  
“Yes, humans. He trusted them, tried to help them, protect them, and in return all they gave him was pain and suffering and _death._ ”  
“But why? Why would they want to hurt him? Why did they betray him?”  
Betty sighed. “Because they saw him, no, saw ALL reploids not as beings, but as _tools._ ”  
“Then…” the reploid continued, confusion tinting their tone, “Then why did he side with them, if they saw us as tools? Why would he _ever_ side with them?”  
“Because he saw good in all life,” Betty answered, kneeling before the small reploid so that she was looking into their eyes. “He was kind and gentle… and naïve. He worked with the humans in the hope that our race and theirs could co-exist peacefully, but we know now that it would never have worked. Still, he trusted them.” Betty stood, and with an air of someone damning an entire species, said, “And they betrayed that trust. Now,” she continued with an air of finality, motioning towards him, “all we have left of the one who created us, the one who made our lives possible, is his memory. The one you see here is nothing but a figure, for his real body perished at the hands of those wretched humans.” She looked down sorrowfully, and he could see that she had gotten too involved in her story as she clenched her fists and said, “That’s why they gave this figure such a sad face. So that we may never forget what the enemy has done.”

Some reploid near the back of the crowd yelled, “So that’s why the humans are being hunted down!”

“Yes,” Betty replied, her voice returning to the professional tenor it had held before. “We tried to settle things peacefully. We tried to create a nation, a world of our own, and let the humans live in their world. They wouldn’t let us. They proved as much when they shot down the Repliforce’s peaceful space colony. They forced us to fight back. So, fight we did. And now,” Betty grinned, before exclaiming, “over 90% of humanity is extinct!”  
“What about the other 10%?” someone yelled.  
“Well, they’re being taken care of right now by our lord Sigma’s peace squads. Soon, there won’t be any humans left at all.”

“As a matter of fact,” Betty continued, sounding like she had almost forgotten something, but he knew she was just pretending, “one of the peace squad’s leaders had a connection with X. Do you know which one?”  
The crowd murmured in excitement, because of course they knew who she was talking about. Every reploid alive knew of him.  
Betty waited a second, before playfully saying, “Here, I’ll give you a hint. He was X’s best friend.”  
He shut her talking out then. He didn’t want to hear anymore.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> I tried to do proper book formatting for this fic, and then realized Ao3 doesn't support that. So oh well.  
> This is gonna be a long, multichapter fic that may take me a while to finish, (plus I'm currently in school so I may not have the most free time for it, so please excuse long pauses between updates ~n~). Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated, anon or not!  
> Also, the title is a work in progress (aka what I named my word document, at the moment :9), so if you guys have any suggestions for what the final title should be, please let me know! 
> 
> I hope you have a wonderful day, and until next time!


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hero's lament, and more questions than answers.

Betty waved happily to the last tour group of the day as the museum doors closed behind them. As soon as the doors slammed shut, however, the happy façade dropped and she sighed out in complaint.  
“Why is the Sunday crowd always so rowdy? Is it because of the shorter hours? Jeez… Hm?”  
She noticed the nightly janitorial staff approaching her. One of them raised a hand in greeting as he chirped, “Good job today, Betty!”  
“Thanks, Frize,” she wearily replied, smiling as she tossed her key ring at him. He caught it easily in his hands as she continued. “I’m going to go ahead and head home for the night.” She walked past them swiftly, towards the exit to the employee lot. “You guys have fun cleaning and locking up, alright?”  
“Oh, we always do!” he cheerily replied, raising a free hand to wave at her. “Have a good night!”  
Without turning, she raised a hand towards him in parting, and he watched as she rounded a corner and left his line of sight.

Frize then went about his usual work routine with the rest of his crew, pacing the halls of the museum to mop, picking up trash, and locking down the doors. When they had finished, he smiled and bid his fellows good night as they left for home, opting to stay behind, like always, to lock the last door behind them.

As the lock clicked shut, it sent the usual thrill through him, tugging his friendly smile into something more genuine.   
Turning, he walked quickly away from the door, back towards the X exhibit. As he entered, the spacious room almost felt akin to a second home for him. Or perhaps his first. 

Approaching the lone display case there, he let his eyes wander upward to gaze into the figure’s own, soaking in the lively look of despair that only accentuated the detailed sorrow in his face and form. It was almost a magical feeling, that something so still could convey such emotion.   
Then again, he knew he wasn’t there to merely observe him. 

Lifting the heavy glass casing that surrounded it, he removed the X figure from its display, setting it gently to the floor before walking around to the back of the display podium and pressing his hand upon its wall. The wall lit up underneath his palm, and he backed up with practiced step, waiting patiently as the display shifted down and back into the ground, revealing a set of stairs.  
Returning, Frize lifted the figure up into his arms, carrying him almost tenderly as he walked down the stairs, towards the door that lied at the very bottom.

With the X figure poised in one arm, he flicked his hand over a sensor pad that hung on the wall. He re-balanced his charge as he waited for the sound of the door unlocking, before shoving it open with his back and entering his favorite room in the museum.

In here lied a lab. His lab, whose existence was known only to a few. Monitors lined the right wall, screens bright and blinking, and rows and rows of equipment, some small tools, others large instruments, lined the left. On the back wall, there was a table covered in research papers, a few blueprints of X hanging above them, as well as a heavy-duty stun weapon stashed under the table itself that had not been touched once since he placed it there.  
In the middle of his lab was an operating slab, made for examining reploids. It had been built with restraints in it for holding down a reploid’s wrists, arms, ankles, knees, torso, and neck, which in itself was standard. The one oddity it possessed was a small hole in its center that went straight through, opening up to the floor beneath.

Frize set the figure down on the table and tied the restraints to it tightly enough to bite into its flesh, before setting about gathering up supplies and pulling up what files and programs he’d need for his ‘exams’ today.  
With the preparations finished, he returned to the slab and crouched next to it, barely able to contain his eagerness as he stuck his arm underneath the hole.  
“Here, girl…” he cooed sweetly, wiggling his fingers near its edge. “It’s time to examine him again. Come here!”

The figure twitched as spindly legs began to emerge from him, curling themselves around Frize’s arm and using it as leverage to pull its body out. Frize could hear his patient gasp loudly as a small mechanaloid fell into his palm, its round body rolling slightly before settling. Tiny red eyes blinked from the black surface, gazing up at him.  
Frize smiled, watching in amusement as it reoriented itself and proceeded to scurry up his arm, perching itself on his shoulder as he stood and looked over his patient.

“Good evening, X.”  
X struggled against his restraints, his voice coming through as grunts and pants as he tried to free himself. A common occurrence, but Frize still took pleasure in the vain way his eyes glared up at him, filled with unbridled rage.  
“Oh come now, X,” Frize said in trained response, walking over to a control panel under one of the monitors. “This again? You should have realized by now that your struggling isn’t going to help you.”  
He pushed a button on the panel, causing X to scream as a shockwave of electricity was sent coursing through him.

Frize held the button down for a few seconds, drinking in his patient’s agonized wails, before releasing it. He could hear X’s labored breathing, and could tell his eyes were trained on him as he picked up a multi-tool, smirking in excitement as he turned and caught his glare.

He approached slowly, savoring the slight tremble in X’s chest, the way he bit down on his lip to hide his fear.  
“Now, let’s open you up and see what we can learn today, hmm?” Frize hummed, pressing his hand to a button under the slab. Mechanical arms dropped from the ceiling, whirring to life over X, and X squirmed under them uselessly as they slowly removed his chest armor, exposing his inner wiring and components.  
Frize looked over him, eyes roving up and down X’s exposed form leisurely before finally settling on his targeted area for today’s first test.

“Ah. Here we are,” he lazily drawled, holding the words as he clicked on his tool. A pair of clamps came out of the end, and he used them to carefully move aside X’s wiring, pinning the spindly cords and thicker cables to his sides. Frize’s core thrummed in delight at the groans X fought to hold back as he pulled at his innards.

Soon, Frize had uncovered a part of the blue reploid’s endo-skeleton. A thin smile tugged at his lips as he recognized the signs of nerve wiring buried within it.

He walked over to the wall of equipment and grabbed a welding torch and some jumper cables, before deciding to place the torch aside for later.  
As Frize attached the jumper cables to his subject’s skeleton, he caught the slight shiver that ran through him, and the soft moan that was dragged mercilessly from his throat.  He reveled in that small display of weakness, fighting back a responding grin of delight as he attached the other end of the cables to a nearby monitor. It soon beeped in response, pulling up a new program that he had his assistant create specifically for today.

Frize turned to look at X, a mockingly benevolent smile painted on his face. “Today, we’ll be testing how you respond to having your skeleton infected by this program. I’ll be recording what defense measures it takes, and hopefully the data will help us to build the soldiers in our peace squads stronger.”  
X glared at him silently, eyes burning with rage, yet tinged by something more potent.  
Fear.

Frize walked over to him, taking a twisted kind of joy in the wince he drew as his hand softly caressed X’s cheek. His voice dripped with fake sweetness as he teased him, saying, “Oh, X. Don’t look at me like that. I’m only trying to do what is best for our kind.”  
X trembled dangerously under his palm, his tender flesh almost burning in fury.  
That was just one of the many things that Frize found so fascinating about him, that placed him above all others.  
How lucky was he, to have in his possession so interesting a subject.

As his fingers trailed off his patient’s face, he almost longed to hear him speak, to hear that somehow mystical way his emotions bled into his voice. While walking back to the monitor, he began to taunt X, in hope of a response.  
“Besides, you should feel glad, not angry!” he almost chided, a false tinge of faint hurt to his tone. “Your designs are being used to finally rid the earth of those humans that kept creating conflict and strife! We’re so close to finally having true peace, just like you wanted!”  
No words came, but as Frize rested a hand on the panel and turned to X, he saw the way X’s eyes danced with emotions. Rage, sorrow, despondency, terror, despair.  
Frize pressed onward excitedly.

“You wanted peace, remember?”  
His smile widened of its own accord, barely keeping its false benevolence.  
“So you should be happy with this.”  
Frize gave in to the overflowing ecstasy he felt, only bolstered by the apprehensive glint of X’s eyes as they turned to daggered slits.  
“Right… X?”

Frize swiftly input a command into the console, watching as his patient’s body jolted, a gasp tearing from him as his eyes flared in pain. X began to thrash violently under his restraints, and Frize basked in the glorious look of agony in his eyes, and the lilt of that voice he found wonderful as it rose up in screams.

* * *

These small moments of the night gave more meaning to Frize’s current life than any advancements he’d made in his past, and yet they always seemed to end far too soon for his liking.  
He had been attaching sensor nodes to X’s now exposed core, placing them along the rim and center, when he stopped to admire the craftsmanship put into the small power supply once more.

Its design was not sleek, nor overpowering. It was small, slightly clunky, and ancient, yet it held a certain alluring charm to it. Frize could not resist running his fingers down its edge, grinning at the hoarse, shuddering breath he knew his touch would receive.  
As he dragged his fingers along the core’s inner surface, choked whimpers meekly rose in reply. When he pushed down, the whimpers turned to weak, staggered, desperate cries. He smiled.

_“I wonder what sounds he’ll make when-”_

A blue light flashed in his optics, accompanied by choppy synthetic voices.  
“Museum opening in 45 minutes. All employees, please ready for opening.”

Snapped from his thoughts by the archaic alarm system, Frize finally thought to check his internal clock, a slight dismay washing over him at the time it showed.  
“Already?” he muttered, his annoyance blatant. “Tch. Oh well.”  
He felt the tension in X’s body dissolve slightly at his words, and a shaky, faint sigh of relief caught his receptors.

Smirking, Frize said, “We’ll just have to do the core endurance testing next time,” before savoring the stilted grunt that tore from X’s throat as he roughly drew his fingers up his core. He quickly took off the nodes that he’d placed, before taking a small moment to observe the progress he’d made this night.

His precious subject laid, lightly shaking, on the slab; his armor completely removed, his inner machinations ravaged and exposed. There were dents and cracks where he had hooked things up to the blue wonder, from when he bucked and writhed in agony, and a multitude of wires ran from his body, spilling out over his frail frame. Some dangled loosely, while most were stretched out and attached to the many machines and monitors around the room, all of which analyzed and recorded data on his test that night. He looked forward to pouring over them all later on that day.

As he moved to detach the wires, he caught sight of X’s half-lidded and tired eyes, the twist of his mouth and face that seemed a perfect mirror of his heart. His breaths came heavily, lips trembling with each.  
Frize couldn’t help but marvel once more at how finely crafted and  _detailed_  he was; how much love that must have been put into his construction.  
It filled him with child-like glee to know that someone so well made and loved was his alone to defile.

Finally shifting his attention back to the task at hand, he noticed something inside X’s pectoral cavity; a small, yellowish device. As it fluctuated up and down, he examined it, trying to determine its function.  
“Interesting….” he mused, before curiously poking at it.

He heard X gasp sharply as it squished down under his fingers, and as he continued to poke and prod it, his subject’s hoarse and broken whine began to flood the air. When he took his hand off it, it deflated down with its owner’s breath of release, before slowly going back to fluctuating.  
Continuing to stare at it curiously a few moments more, his mind ran through possible functions, though one thing sung loudest: he’d never seen such a device in any other reploid before. Nothing that squished or felt soft beneath his touch, nothing quite so… strange. Another unique oddity. Another mystery to be explored. Another weak and sensitive spot to be exploited, if he could only learn how.  
He grinned at the prospect.

“I’ll have to check on that component next time as well!” he exclaimed, before sighing, “But for now, I’m sorry to say that our time together is up.”  
He set about removing and replacing the wires running from X’s body, gently plugging each into their proper place, softly touching each area as he went. When he finished, he looked up to see X’s face, his eyes staring resolutely at the ceiling as he bit his trembling lip.

Frize slowly traced a finger over the ridge of X’s frame, the cut away synth-flesh brushing against his finger-tips as he watched his patient’s eyes flicker in discomfort. Grabbing at the torn edges of skin, he pulled them together, stitching them closed over wounded innards that would be healed and renewed by nanites. When he next cut into him, they would be as if new. Mostly, anyway.

With his stitching done, he returned to the console, inputting a few commands into it and leaning back as mechanical arms whirred down from the ceiling, carrying with them the discarded parts of X’s armor. Diligently they set to work, replacing and securing the blue pieces of metal back to their owner’s frame.  
X spoke not a single word or utterance throughout it all, but his eyes shone with indignation and rage..  
Even after all this time, Frize still admired his strong spirit.

As the last piece of armor clicked back into place, Frize walked around to the simple stand that his small mechanaloid now perched on, holding his palm out to it.  
“Here, girl,” he cooed, “it’s time to go back in.”

Hurrying onto his hand, the mechanaloid looked up at him expectantly, and with a simple motion he set it upon the floor. It hesitated only a moment before scurrying towards the hole, and gripping its edges, it pulled itself up. Frize merely watched, until a soft hiccup caught his attention.  
As he stood to see the source, a smile bloomed across his face.

X’s eyes were sealed shut, his chest heaving with stifled sobs as small, crystalline tears pushed through his lashes and trickled down his cheeks. Frize snorted, drawing X’s all too expressive eyes to himself.  
“That’s a good look for you, X,” he softly said, running a thumb over the trailing tears.  
His subject’s pupils dilated, and in its depths Frize could see wrath, anguish, fear, disgust; but most of all, sorrow. Endless, unceasing sorrow.  
X snarled at him, before gasping as spasm rocked his body. Groans poured from him as he squirmed futilely, his limbs and torso jerking with the forced reentry of his small warden.

Soon he stilled, and he threw one last tortured glare at the scientist before his expression shifted from agony to the default betrayed grief. Frize merely chuckled at the display as he undid the restraints with practiced ease.  
He lifted the now frozen hero from his stony bed, carrying him with ease back up the stairs to his usual resting place. Upon exiting his lab, the podium slid and locked back into place, hiding the entrance once more.

As he positioned the azure reploid back on his podium, Frize took one last moment to assess his charge.  
Placing a hand to X’s chest, he gave it a quick thump, thinking,  _“That’ll be a fun one. I can tell.”_  
He stepped back, and lifting the glass display case, settled it back into place. Before he left, however, he gazed up at the sad figure.

X was kneeling, his palms turned upward in peaceful intention, and his face slightly tilted toward the floor, expression portraying a profound sorrow, a sense of misplaced trust. The way he was positioned, one could almost imagine that he had been shot in the back, his body crumbling to the ground as his power core flickered out. It was quite poetic, in a sense.  
“Until next time, X,” Frize said sweetly, rejoicing at the revulsion and terror he imagined his words brought. With a simple wave, he turned and strode toward the exit.  
He still had some pre-opening chores, after all.

* * *

 X watched as the doors opened, the first tour group of the day already rushing in. There was an even mix of animal and humanoid reploids that crowded around his display, some eyes gazing up at him in awe, some in sorrow, and others in disinterest. He vaguely recognized a few of them.

As one of the tour guides struggled to push their way to the front of the crowd, X withdrew into himself. The words the tour guide spoke, the lies, the propaganda, the chatter, all of it turned to buzzing background noise as he disassociated, sight still sharp but mind refusing to process the images it received.  
Some faint thought of his first days flickered in his mind, of the pain he felt when he had yet to master this technique, of those many nights awake, alone, unable to sleep, unable to dream. They were gone as quickly as they came, though, as he resigned himself to his memories of happier days, to the “waking dreams” that now replaced the sleep that he could barely remember ever having.  
He dreamt back to the time when Dr. Cain was still alive. A time when the world wasn’t at war. A time when humans weren’t being exterminated.  
A time when he didn’t know what true sorrow was.

His mind wandered back to when he first opened his eyes. The inquisitive faces, the bubbling questions from both sides. _“Who are you?” “What are you?” “What’s your name?”_  
“This is X.”  
The world had been bright, beautiful. Unmarred.  
Peaceful.  
“He was the first of us.”  
The sun shone brightly down on the sands that stretched from the dig site; the grassy plains, the trees around Cain’s home, the lake, the streets, the human’s smiling faces and his own armor. Soon, it glinted off the metallic carapaces of his kind.  
“He’s dead now, obviously, but he was the first.”  
The view of the sky was beautiful from HQ back then. The hallways were always lit with a warm glow, and filled with idle chatter.  
_“I’ve seen a reploid with a furnace built into their chest before.”_  
_“You have not!”_  
_“I have, Alia!”_  
“X was the eldest of all reploids. Was, anyway.”  
The loading bay had an air of oil and distant scents lingering about it, even during slow times.  
_“I think I know how to calibrate my own bike.”_  
_“Then why isn’t it working properly?”_  
_“Douglas…”_  
“I heard he was brilliant!”  
_“It’s my win, X.”_  
_“Remind me never to play cards with you again, Commander. You’re too good at them.”_  
“Well, maybe.”  
A chorus rang through his mind.  
_“Morning, X!”_  
_“Good afternoon, X!”_  
_“Good luck out there!”_  
It hurt. It hurt to remember it all, but the past was the only solace he had left.  
The only…  
_“X.”_  
He jarred his mind away from that image of red. That was the one thing he couldn’t let himself think of. The person who shared most of his memories. His oldest friend.  
The person he’d failed.

“Zero, right?”

X snapped back to reality at the name.

“That’s right!” exclaimed the tour guide as he paced back and forth in front of his display case. Already some of the reploids in the audience looked annoyed, eyes glaring at the hapless one among them who had decided to answer whatever question he had asked.  
“Zero, as you all know, is one of our most diligent and respected peace keepers.” The guide stopped and slammed a hand against the glass of the display case. “He also happened to be X’s closest friend, before the humans betrayed them.”

X’s thoughts turned sour when he recognized the guide as Jenal and, wearily giving up on his dreaming, began to contemplate again _how_ the bumbling idiot kept his job when all he truly talked about was Zero.  
Of course, that was probably the reason why. Just to torture him some more.  
Some members of the tour group groaned, a clear indication that they were frequent customers, while the others looked at them in confusion. X could faintly see a snake reploid give his groaning humanoid friend an inquisitive look, and could read, “Just wait, you’ll see,” off his friend’s lips.  
_“Oh boy, will you,”_ X wordlessly grumbled, bracing himself as Jenal sucked in a huge breath to start his “little” speech.

“Zero and X gave their entire _lives_ to protecting the human race from harm, be it from “Mavericks” or their own stupidity, because humans are quite stupid and really very violent, you know,” Jenal spouted, practically singing some of his words as he made wild hand gestures to accentuate his meanings. “But still they protected them because they, or X, had hoped that the humans would change their ways and that there would be peace between the two races. Zero, who I honestly doubt ever thought the humans would change, went along with X in protecting the humans out of what was probably a strong bond of friendship and comradery. The humans, though, as you all know, _betrayed_ the two of them almost 5 years ago now. As Zero and X had saved them from their own self brought destruction once again, they decided to turn on the two. The pair tried to fight their way out, X with words probably because he was just like that and Zero with his Z-saber because he was honestly the smarter of the two of them.” 

Jenal paused for a second to let his voice cool. X soaked in those precious moments of silence, almost savoring the strange looks the tour group sent Jenal’s way for a moment, before mentally sighing as the guide continued blabbering on.

“Anyway, in all the struggles the humans managed to kill X and very nearly killed Zero as well, if not for the intervention of our lord Sigma and his peace squads,” Jenal gushed excitedly, a tinge of misguided patriotism to his voice. “Sigma destroyed the humans that had dared to harm our valiant protector and his best friend, and when Zero awoke Sigma told him of what had happened to X. Zero, filled with righteous fury over the loss of his closest friend to those _beasts_ ,” Jenal clenched his fists upwards, his eyes staring off into the distance, “swore that he would not rest until all of the _traitorous_ and _blood-thirsty_ human race had been purged from this world by his hand.”

 _“That’s… not at all…”_  
The same urge came again, to scream out, to jump from his pedestal and tell him he’s wrong. Cold reality squashed it in an instant as he stayed perfectly still.  
_“You’re wrong,”_ his mind muttered, unable to stay quiet at the lies the delusional fool spoke. _“He would never do that… he’d never….”_  
Yet that was what happened.  
No pressure built behind his eyes, no tears slid from his cheeks, but he knew he was crying all the same.  
_“Hunters and Mavericks…. we’re really quite similar, after all. We both… exist. Does…”_  
_“Zero… what are you talking about?”_  
What had you wanted to say?  
_“You don’t have to do this. I’ll go instead.”_  
_“It has to be me, X.”_  
Why?  
_“Zero, is something wrong? Are you okay!?”_  
_“There’s still a chance.”_  
Why!?  
There was so much blood….  
Zero… what happened to you?  
_“Go back to HQ.”_  
_“No.”_  
_“I’ve got this.”_  
Zero…  
_“I’m not a maverick.”_  
Why didn’t I trust you?

That horrible image entered his head again. HQ in ruins, slick crimson painting every wall.  
And his friend in the center of it all, being dragged away.  
Screaming.

_“X!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”_

Every fiber of his being jolted back in despair.  
“Zero truly is the greatest peace-keeper.”  
Jenal’s tone was indulgent, fanatic, and the stares he got incredulous.  
_“Zero… please, remember.”_  
“There’s no doubt that he’ll succeed in wiping out humanity!”  
_“Humanity isn’t your enemy. You’re not a maverick.”  
_ A deafening silence stretched over the crowd.

_"You’re my friend.”_

“Anyway!” Jenal nervously coughed, “That concludes the tour. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to the exit!”  
The tour group mumbled disagreeably to itself as it followed the misguided guide out the atrium door, leaving X alone with his empty prison. To the silence.  
His sobs were ringing in his head as faint hope skimmed his heart.

 _“Zero, you have to remember. Even if…”_  
He’d never forgive himself.  
But still…

 _“_ _Zero, please...”_

 

_“Save me.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On Frize:  
> I set out to write a character that, to me, was the worst possible thing you could subject a person to, and that somehow became Frize.  
> So there ya go.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'll try to have the next one out relatively soon. In the meantime, maybe leave a comment or a kudos? I'd love to know what you guys think about my story so far! -sparkly eyes-  
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful day! Until next time!


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallelujah, I finally finished Chap 2. Enjoy!

As the newbie guide was jostled by the excited crowd, a stray black lock fell back into her face. Betty watched as she tried to unsuccessfully shove it back while corralling the eager reploids she was leading.  
As her tour group nearly threw her to the ground again, Betty sighed, and quickly distracted her own group before walking over.  
“Jonna, you can’t let them shove you around,” the elder guide chastised, pushing the lock of hair out of her unsteady co-worker’s face and securing it with a pin.  
“I-I know, ma’am, but they’re just-“ Jonna stuttered back, fingers nervously tugging at her headpiece. “It’s just… AH-”  
Jonna rocked forward, and Betty turned just in time to see a few unruly patrons fall into one of the displays.  
“HEY! NO ROUGH-HOUSING!”  
“Sorry…” came the abashed responses.

Sighing wearily, she turned back to her young protégé, who looked at her in apprehension. “Sorry…” the girl whimpered, casting her eyes to the floor.  
“Don’t be,” Betty replied. “It’s only your third day here. You’ll get the hang of it soon enough. Besides,” she added, glancing around at the crowd, “Today’s crowd is mostly newly made combatant types. Always the worst to deal with. So just consider it bad luck that you got saddled with them.”  
Jonna smiled at the ground meekly. “Okay…”  
“Good. Now then…”

Betty took Jonna’s arm and, coughing loudly, strolled to the center of the room. “Alright, everyone! We’ll be heading into the most important exhibit in the museum soon. I expect you all to behave yourselves!” she announced, with a hard tone of command to her voice. The crowd respond immediately to that, and a quiet hush fell over them all as Betty walked forward and opened the doors.  
The two groups hastily marched into the next room, and Betty walked forward, before a tuf at her arm caught her attention.  
“Hey,” Jonna muttered nervously. “Thanks.”  
Betty grinned. “Don’t mention it.”

Straightening herself, and feeling her co-worker do the same, the two strolled through the door, and Betty easily took her place in front of the X exhibit pedestal. The crowd was already silent and attentive, awaiting her speech.  
“This is the most important exhibit in the museum,” she began, eyes roving the audience before her, “for it is with the person on display here that our existence, and our fight, began. Without him, none of us would be here now. His name is-”

She stopped short as the barrel of a buster filled her vision.

* * *

The crimson light faded from his vision. Idle chatter filled his ears, and already he despised his return to base. The hope that some mission would come up before the last one ended sat bitter and dejected in his chest. 

He stepped down from the teleport pad to the sounds of congratulations and fond welcomes back. Someone cheerily wished him a “spot of good relaxation” during his rarely gotten downtime. Holding back a grimace, he simply nodded. A bitter comment sat restless on his tongue but went unsaid.  
“ _Nothing about this is relaxing.”_

When he was finally able to get away from the crowds, he found himself in one of the Headquarters’ many bland hallways. As he pondered what to do, his eyes casually roamed the white, featureless walls, and his mind snagged on the thought that there had once been features there. Purple paint with vibrant red borders, sticky notes with casual jibes, windows that looked out over the entire city. The Hunters always had-  
Some feeling in his chest tightened, and he shook the memories away. This was exactly why he hated having downtime. It gave him time to think, to look around and remember. He despised reminiscing.  
“Guess that means my room’s not an option right now…” he wearily mumbled, and with a sigh, he headed towards the training sims.

About halfway there, a squad came thundering past him in the halls and, recognizing one of them, he called out.  
“Oi, Davin!”  
One of the members, a deceptively fresh-faced lieutenant, glanced back as he slowed his pace. “Yes, sir?”  
“I told you not to call me sir,” he replied, jogging up to the group. “What’s up?”  
“There’s been an attack on the Grand Museum,” Davin explained. “We’re being deployed there now.”  
“The museum…”  
“I know that tone. You do remember you’re banned from setting foot in there, right?”  
“I know,” he shortly replied, throwing his younger comrade a half-hearted glare.  
Davin chuckled. “Just checking. I guess you’re seeing us off, then?”  
“What do you… oh.”

He hadn’t noticed when they’d reached the pads, but it was hard to ignore the “shwing!” sound of teleport beams shooting into the sky.  
A mischievous smile tugged at his lips. “Naw, I’m coming with.” Before his friend could respond he added, “That’s an order. Besides, you could use the extra man, right?”  
Davin looked about to argue, before simply sighing good-naturedly. “Alright, alright. But if Commander Sigma chews me out for letting you come, _you_ have to take the heat for it. Deal?”  
“Deal,” he readily replied, stepping up to the teleport pads. The museum….. it would be interesting to fight in a place he’d never seen before. “Operator, ready for teleport!”  
“Roger! Readying teleport.”  
Davin smirked at him. “You just didn’t want to have downtime, right?”  
He snorted. “Can’t get anything past you, can I?”  
The smirk turned into a grin. “That you can’t. Still, I’m glad to have you along, sir.”  
He gave an exasperated sigh. “I told you not to-”  
“Yeah, yeah,” his friend flippantly replied, slightly elbowing him. “Glad to have you along, Zero.”  
“Engaging.”  
Beams of light filled their sight.  
"The pleasure's all mine," he responded, before closing his eyes as the weightlessness took over him.

* * *

 

 

The reploid hit the wall with a sickening crunch, barely able to stay on his feet. His hand went to his missing buster, clutching at the bleeding stump. Zero dropped the reploid’s arm on the ground and watched his eyes flicker as it landed among his former comrades.  
The blond smirked, taking a step forward.  “Not much of a threat without a weapon, are you?”  
“F-fuck… you…” the reploid seethed, voice trembling with rage. A single glare caused Zero’s memory to faintly stir, and he paused.  
“Wait… You used to be a hunter, right?” he recalled, struggling to call up specifics. “The 17th … X-”  
“Don’t you dare say his name!” the reploid suddenly snapped, startling him from his reminiscing. “You traitor!”  
Zero blinked, before a cold expression crossed his face. “Hardly,” he replied, brandishing his saber. “You’re the traitor, for siding with humanity.”  
“Burn in hell, _maverick,”_ the rebel spat, his ichor loss starting to prove too much as his legs buckled beneath him.  
Zero gazed at the former hunter in solemn disdain, and with a flash his saber struck through the rebel’s core.  
“See you there,” he said, taking only a moment to watch the lights in his eyes sputter out before dashing back the way he’d come, toward the sound of buster fire.

 _“Why’d they send such a huge force for this?”_ Zero couldn’t help but wonder as he passed more wrecked exhibits. _“Why are the rebels interested in a museum?”_  
Rounding a corner, he struck down the two rebels he found there. One of his comrades stuck their head out from behind a toppled display.  
“Thanks for the help, Commander.”  
“No sweat, Corvitz,” he replied, flashing them a grin as he offered his hand. Corvitz took it readily and stood, flinching as they put weight on their leg. Zero immediately noticed the sparking hole in their left thigh, cut deep enough to expose the edge of their skeletal frame.  
Corvitz noticed his gaze, and quickly scoffed. “It’s nothing. I can still fight.”  
“I know,” Zero answered, “But you can’t run or maneuver well with a hole in your leg. Take cover behind that corner and provide support fire to anyone who runs through here. Got it?”  
“Got it!”  
As Corvitz hobbled off, Zero’s mind wandered back to his previous thoughts, and a perplexed expression crossed his face.

“Why here?”

“Huh?” Corvitz responded, turning back to look at him.  
Zero blanked a second as he realized he’d said that aloud. “I mean, uh… What is there of value here?”  
Corvitz blinked at him in confusion. “There’s a few things, I guess. Like the old robot master tech, or the false documents. Mostly just dioramas and models, though.” They shrugged. “Nothing really of significant value.”  
“ _Then why are the rebels attacking here?”_ he thought to himself, while saying, “I see.”  
“Have you never-?”

A cacophony of explosion noises cut them short. In an instant, Zero was dashing towards the direction it was coming from.  
“It doesn’t matter!” he barely heard himself shout, as if a reassurance for the unsettling pit he felt in his core.  
As a grenade sailed and exploded over his head, the thoughts were buried.  
The pit, however, remained.

* * *

“We’re going to get you out of here.”

The promise had rung dead in his ears, but as a hand grasped his shoulder his fickle heart had betrayed him. It dared to hope.

The hand hadn’t stayed long, though. He’d soon fallen.

_It hurts…_

The buster shot had fried his vision so that all he could see was black, but his other senses screeched that there was more. His taste spoke of iron. His touch crawled with slippery warmth. His pain sensors stung in his temple. His hearing was full of screams, and he recognized most of them. Some voices from long ago. Some voices from just today. Old and new, their ends proclaimed with discordant noise and strained vocalizers.  
He’d always wished to hear the voices of the 17th Elite again, but not like this.  

_Please, no more…_

His pupils itched as his nanites fervently repaired the shorted circuitry within. The screams became less, buried beneath the sounds of death, until they were no more. His sight slowly rebooted, hazy and unfocused.

The floor greeted him with glimmering red.

* * *

The after-math damage detail and final sweeps were just getting underway when Zero decided to wander around and take a little directionless tour of the museum. There wasn’t much to see between the scorch marks, broken glass, and warped plastic figures, but it was always interesting to look around a place you weren’t allowed to be in. Though that begged the question: why had he’d been forbidden to come here? From what he could tell, the place was all informational plaques and plastic displays mixed with the occasional scrap of old tech. There was nothing provocative, no darkly held secrets brought to light; everything was simple and factual, made and collected to teach visitors about an already well-known history; just some benign little museum.  
One that, for some reason, was the only place in the whole world he wasn’t allowed to be in.  
“Is this really it?”

His footsteps echoed hollowly against the shot-up walls, accompanied by the occasional clatter of a carelessly kicked piece of rubble.  
“’Oh, we can’t let _Zero_ see the museum! He’d be scared stiff by the cinchy dioramas!” he softly mocked, picking up a melted display scrap in his hand. “He wouldn’t _survive_ the sight of old robot master tech! He’d _bored_ to _death_ by the history lessons! And the _gift shop_... Oh, the horror!’”  
Tossing the scrap, a mirthless snort escaped him as he turned a corner and tromped absentmindedly into a large atrium. “This has got to the stupidest-”

His snide remark froze in his throat.

Ichor coated the walls and pooled on the tiles, painting the room in a sickly crimson. A single display pedestal stood tall within it, jagged glass crowning it and scattered around its base. Below, a few bodies littered the floor.

“Jesus….” Zero exhaled, uneasily walking toward the display. His eyes scanned the corpses for survivors, and mostly found fatal wounds; a head shot off, a core ripped out, countless burns and jagged cuts. Only one, clad all in blue, didn’t sport a single fatal wound.  
He was at their side in an instant, core racing in his chest. Something thrummed painfully in the back of his mind as his fingers brushed the burnt edge of the body’s helmet.  
_“Just two inches more, and I’d have-”_  
His thought ground to an unnatural halt.  
_“Have… what?”_  
His brain didn’t have an answer, but his heart ached in response.  
Slowly, he turned the body over. 

The face that greeted him was familiar. It seemed eternally young and irrevocably ancient, for in every crease of his soft expression there was sorrow. Ichor stained his cheek and chin, slightly dotting along his lower lip. Soon, it was smeared along Zero’s palm as well. Words quietly fell from his lips.  
“I thought I’d told you to be more careful, X.”  
He could almost hear the incredulous reply, could see some inconsequential moment from the past.  
_“Me? You nearly lost your head!”_  
His friend had shoved him away, laughing fakely. _“You’re the one that needs to be more careful, Zero.”_  
“Yeah, yeah.”  
He’d always known the act would drop when they were alone, but morale had been a fragile thing in those days of unending war. They had to pretend they were fine.  
_“I mean that.”_  
His hands grasped something. There was a weight in his lap.  
_“I know.”_  
Their true feelings were always in their eyes. Zero had checked his friend’s then, had seen relief atop the apprehension rooted too deeply to remove. He checked them now.  
They were screaming.

_“Zero!”_

A rundown shuttle filled his vision. People rushed around its base and climbed over its surface, carrying and welding down equipment and pieces. Everyone knew that it was a shoddy patchwork of an upgrading job, but it was all they could do in such short notice. All he had to do was entrust his life to its success.  
He turned to face his worried friend.  
“X…”  
_“You don’t have to do this.”_  
“Yes, I…”  
“….. do what?”

He couldn’t breathe.

 _“Zero…”_  
A sickly purple glow illuminated X’s figure. Three med drones bobbed in the air behind him, hovering over the massive W on the wall. He felt like he’d seen that symbol before. He couldn’t tell where. His core’s pulse felt like agony in his chest.  
_“Please… go back to HQ… I’ve got… this…”_  
“You can barely stand… you can’t…”  
“You… can’t…”

 _“ZERO!”_  
Everything was dark. Numb. Burning.  
_“Let him go!”_  
_X…._  
“What are you planning to do with Zero!?”  
Just…  
A deep voice laughed. _“Shouldn’t you worry more about yourself?”_  
Just…

“Run.”

 _“NGH!”_  
He heard it all vividly. A thump, followed by another, and another, and more after that. His friend’s labored breathing, his staggered cries, the futility of his struggling.  
Then, a sound that broke Zero.  
His friend’s scream.  
Piercing, howling, brittle, strained, agonizing, painful, pain, _pain-_

**WARNING: SYSTEM OVERHEAT. SHUTDOWN IMMINENT.**

Zero gasped as the message flared across his vision, invisible klaxons screeching in his mind while the scathing heat in his chest finally registered. His throat felt like a vice, choking out his very existence, and desperately he forced himself to vent, wheezing as cold air rushed painfully over his overheated inner mechanisms. His vision popped with static, and he squeezed his eyes close, curling in on himself to stop the trembling in his body and why did it feel so familiar, why hadn’t he been breathing, why-

**Internal Temperature Stabilized. Shutdown Aborted.**

The relief made him dizzy, but he couldn’t tell why it would, or why he’d felt so relieved to stay conscious for once after that happened.

……For once? Had it happened before? It felt like it had, but he couldn’t remember a time when it had. And those memories…

Zero opened his eyes, and the figure’s blue carapace engulfed his vision. His hands were gripping onto it tightly, shaking.

“What… What was….?”

“Sir!” a voice shouted behind him, startling him from his confusion. “All artifacts of the museum have been accounted for!”  
Zero tried to calm his breathing, still his shaking hands. “Good. That’s… that’s good.”  
He could hear footsteps approach him. “Hey, Zero… are you alright?”  
He turned, and there was Davin, his hand outstretched and a deeply worried expression on his face.

It was like he was seeing him for the first time. He noticed that his friend had a soft face with a square jaw and eyes that had been turned hard by battle. It was familiar and how had he never noticed that before?  
“Zero?” the young soldier asked again, kneeling down and reaching out to grab his shoulder.  
Zero’s hand struck out, catching Davin’s by the wrist and startling him.  
“I’m… I’m alright, Davin.”  
“… If you say so,” Davin replied, staring at him for a second before looking at what laid in his lap. “Hey, isn’t that the X figure from the display?”

Zero glanced back down at the sorrowful figure in his arms, the figure of his best friend with screaming eyes and “Yeah, I think it is” slipped from his mouth unconsciously. His body felt like it was on autopilot as he balanced the figure in his arms and stood. “The display case must’ve been damaged during the fighting.”  
“Probably,” Davin replied, standing up as well. “Going by what one of the tour guides said, it started out in here. Case probably got shattered by a stray shot.”  
A non-committal noise of agreement came from Zero’s throat as he cradled the figure, his fingers tentatively tracing its cheek as he was transfixed by its eyes and the level of detail in its face and the eyes and its heartbreaking expression and its _eyes._

“Zero, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Go tell the curator that the display case in here was shattered. I’ll take care of the figurine.”

“…. Alright. But you better wait for me here, okay? I want to head back together.”

He didn’t even look back as he heard Davin rush off. His feet numbly walked toward the shattered glass, and he carefully laid the figure down upon its podium, moving its arms to lay across its stomach as if it was sleeping and not…

_Dead_

Zero repeated that to himself in his head. His friend was dead, he’d been dead for a while, he’s dead and he’s gone and this figure isn’t him damnit it _isn’t him_.  
But some part of his mind refused to accept that, maybe out of some sort of deep seated denial, some seeded guilt that desperately wanted his friend to be… to be…

Nothing felt real in his reeling mind, but he knew some things to be reality. One of those things was that his arms felt cold after he had set figure down, and he found himself desperately longing to pick the figure back up and just run. He didn’t know why he felt that way. It didn’t make sense. Why he was feeling so terrified, so desperate and alone and afraid? Afraid of what?

_I don’t want to lose him again_

Was that it?

He looked down at the figure’s prone form. The sight of its armor, of its helmet that held a red gem in its center, of its face and of its pained and sorrowful and tortured expression made Zero’s mind feel like a tempest. There was something there, or something that was supposed to be there, but it felt like trying to remember what it was was like grasping at thin air. His heart told them there was something there, that he was forgetting something, something _important_ , something he had to know but in his mind there was _nothing_ , a great big void, a hole it dared not explore but was there something there? What could it have been, what was he-!?

_“ZERO!”_

His friend’s scream echoed through his head, and Zero realized he was staring into the figure’s eyes again.

He almost jumped as a hand landed on his shoulder, his fingers instinctively curling around the hilt of his saber.  
“Whoa whoa, it’s just me!” Davin cried out, placing a hand over Zero’s own and prying it of his weapon. “Geez, something _is_ up with you today. I’ve never seen you so jumpy before.”  
Zero glanced back at him, before lowering his eyes in shame.  
“What’s up, Zero?”  
“…. It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”  
“… If you say so…”

As Davin peered around him, he continued, saying, “But I’m still gonna worry. You can’t just command me to…”  
“….. Oh, it’s the X figure, isn’t it?”

Zero tensed, and Davin gave a mirthless laugh.  
“I keep forgetting how sad the thing looks. Especially the eyes.”  
He said nothing, and Davin glanced up at him, before returning his gaze to the figure. With the tips of his fingers, he slid the figure’s eyelids down over its eyes.  
“I bet he was a good friend.”

Zero nodded absentmindedly, his words suddenly abandoning him.

Davin looked at him and smiled. “Zero, you need to stop beating yourself up over what happened one of these days. It wasn’t your fault.”  
Zero’s mouth opened, but the words still didn't come.

Davin just laughed, and roughly slapped him on the back. “Well, one of these days. Anyway, let’s get going so we can warp out of here.”  
As Davin turned for the door, Zero snapped out of his trance. “Wait, we can’t warp from here?”  
“No we can not,” Davin answered, never breaking stride. “The museum is shielded against all warp signals, including ours.”  
“…Why?”  
“’Security Reasons’”, his friend replied, twitching his fingers in air-quotes. “Which I guess makes sense, given the relics here, but still…”  
“But our signals?” Zero continued, confused.  
“Yep. Maybe in case one of us goes rogue or something? I mean, that _has_ happened before. Anyway,”

Davin turned on his heel, staring Zero down as he continued to slowly walk, backwards, towards the door.

“Are you coming or not?”

Zero took one last look back at the display and the replica of his best friend resting upon it. He could still hear X’s scream ringing in his mind.

“Well?”

“…I’m coming.”

He turned his back on it, and started dashing to catch up with his friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just accept that I'm never gonna be 100% satisfied with the ending bit of this chapter -_-  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! Leave a comment, anon or not, telling me what you think so far. I see and read every one I get, and it motivates me to write all the more :D.  
> (I'll try to get chapter 3 up in a more timely manner than I did this one ;.u.)
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful day!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> I tried to do proper book formatting for this fic, and then realized Ao3 doesn't support that. So oh well.  
> This is gonna be a long, multichapter fic that may take me a while to finish, (plus I'm currently in school so I may not have the most free time for it, so please excuse long pauses between updates ~n~). Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated, anon or not!  
> Also, the title is a work in progress (aka what I named my word document, at the moment :9), so if you guys have any suggestions for what the final title should be, please let me know! 
> 
> I hope you have a wonderful day, and until next time!


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